


"Kulaso." ... "Gesundheit?"

by Lady In A Tux (CollateralDamage666)



Series: Why Sherlock has Ruined my Life [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Eritrean cuisine, Ethiopian cuisine, First Date, Gursha, Kulaso, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollateralDamage666/pseuds/Lady%20In%20A%20Tux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to try out a new restaurant.  Sure, why not?  What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Kulaso." ... "Gesundheit?"

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed, not britpicked.
> 
> I've never actually eaten Eritrean food, only Ethiopian food, so I'm sure it's a bit different. But I think I have the general gist of it.
> 
> And you guys have no clue how much I've wanted to eat Ethiopian food thanks to this story.

It was their first case together after Sherlock’s return and it had gone perfectly.  If you looked past the cuts and bruises they both sported, and instead to the laughs and smiled the shared with each other as they walked from the circus of police cars.  They were making off into the night like criminals themselves, Lestrade yelling after them that he would need a statement someday, at least.  That someday would be next week, by Sherlock’s calculations, when John was off work and finally dragged Sherlock down to the Yard.

While it may have been their first case together after the fall, it hadn’t been the first case brought forward to them.  John just never wanted to go.  ‘Next time, Sherlock,’ he would say, ‘Not this time, maybe next.’  Then he would shut himself away in whatever trivial book or TV show he was pretending to pay interest to.  So, Sherlock would slip on his usual attire and go out to the scene, feeling as if he was only half there, like having forgotten his left limbs behind at the flat.  However, now he had them back.  He looked over at John and couldn’t stop the childlike giggle that left his chest.

“So, Chinese?  Thai?”  John looked up at him with a smile, “What do you feel like tonight?  I could call it in and we could stop at it on the way back home.”

“About that,” Sherlock pulled out his phone, flipping through his search history, “I was thinking of trying something different.  There’s a place of few blocks from here we could walk to and sit down at.  It’s still open.”

“Okay, I’m in, but I don’t even know what food it is.”  He made a grab for Sherlock phone, who merely held it in the air, out of reach from the shorter man.

“Where’s the fun in telling you, Mr. Watson?”  Sherlock smirked, pocketing the device.

“Can I at least know the name of the place?”

Sherlock decided to amuse the doctor that much, “Mosob.”

It was quiet for a while.

“Never even heard of it.”

“That’s the point.  We’re trying something new.”

John smiled and shook his head, “It better not be a weird type of new.”

“Is eating with your hands a ‘weird type of new?’”

“We’re going to be eating with our hands at this restaurant?  That’s allowed?”

“It’s considered the correct way to eat, yes.  Make sure you use your right hand, though.  That’s the proper hand to use while eating here.”

“Right hand, got it.”  He held it out in front of him as though to remind himself which one it was.

“And here we are.”

John looked up as they stopped outside of the building, “The soul of Eritrean cuisine?  I’ve never even heard of Eritrea.”

“It’s a small African country by the Red Sea and under control of Ethiopia until 1993.  As a result, their food is quiet similar, though they were influenced by the Italians as well,” Sherlock said, moving forward to push open the door.

“Okay, so that’s important information, but the fact that we go around the sun isn’t?”

“I merely learned this information earlier today when researching this restaurant.  I’ll delete it later, don’t worry.”  He turned to ask for a table for two and they were led to the main room, menus set on both sides of the table.

“Did you look it up just to impress me?”  John smiled, sitting down.  Sherlock didn’t answer at first, his gaze traveling over the other customers before sliding back to John.

“Maybe.”

John chuckled and shook his head, picking up his menu.

“I was thinking we could get one of these,” John looked up as Sherlock took his menu and opened it to the page he was referring to, showing the group choices, “They’re for two.”  He offered as way of explanation.

“Should we just go for the cheapest one or-“ John started to ask.

“It depends on the food you want, vegetarian or meat.  Plus, some have dessert or tea with the meal.”  John stared back at the options while Sherlock got out his phone, fiddling with the buttons.

“What do you want, then?”  John looked up to ask Sherlock but the man merely waved his question away.

“Any of them will work for what I want.”

“Okay…” he put aside Sherlock’s strange behavior for the meantime, turning his attention back to the menu, flipping back and forth to figure out just what foods such as Zigni and Kik were.

He was still flipping back and forth when the waitress came by asking for their drinks.  Sherlock just asked for a glass of water but John peered at the beverages for a bit before ordering a Sexy Mosob.  The waitress walked away and he could practically feel Sherlock staring at him.  He turned with a smile.

“Might as well try it out while I’m here, shouldn't I?”

Sherlock let out a little laugh, returning his attention to the phone in his hand, but a faint smile remained on his face.  John returned his attention to the matter on hand, trying to decide which one to order.  He knew it all went down to how much Sherlock was willing to eat, as there was no way he was going to eat all of this, but Sherlock had specifically said that he had decided on this since they were for two, so maybe he-

“You’re thinking too loud.  Just pick the one you want and order it.  The waitress is coming back.”  Sherlock cut into his thought process and John quickly picked one, setting the menu flat on the table just as she slid back up to the table to take their order, sliding their drinks in front of them as she did so.

“Um, yes, we’ll be having the-“ he paused grimacing on the inside because he knew he was going to pronounce this incorrectly.

“Adi K’eyih set.”  Sherlock finished for him.  John blinked in surprise and handed over his menu as Sherlock held up his.  He waited for her to be far enough away before he hissed.

“How did you know what I was going to get?”

“It was simple, really.  You ordered a cocktail, so tea was out of the question, so the middle two on both menus are out.  You’d rather have meat, so now the entire vegetarian menu is forgotten.  So, what remains is the plain one, and the one with dessert.  You’re not overly fond of lamb, which the first one has, and, you figure that, since I’m paying for it, you might as well go all the way.  So, the Adi K’eyih selection.  The only question now is what you’re going for with the dessert.”

John smiled and shook his head, “That’s amazing.  May I ask why you didn’t just order from the beginning, then?  Why make me look it all over?”

“Because I wanted to see if you would surprise me.”

“Well sorry for disappointing you.”

“On the contrary, I’m glad I can still predict some things about you.  I was afraid you were making yourself immune to my deductions.”

“I doubt I could ever manage that feat.  Not even Irene was able to pull that one off.”  John smiled, but Sherlock remained neutral, “So, what was with the sudden interest of coming here?”

“I was looking over other types of foods we could try out, we can only eat Chinese takeaway so much, and came across this place.  It’s merely coincidence that the case happened to end nearby.”  Of course it did.  John just barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes.  “And then I came across something I wanted to try.”

That got John’s interest, “You said that earlier, that whatever I order would work for what you wanted.  What did you mean by that?”

Sherlock’s gaze seemed to pierce through him, “You’ll find out later.”

Oh, now John was really worried, his mind conjuring up all the nightmares that Sherlock could come up with and produce.

“It’s nothing like that.  I’m not going to do anything awful.  But, if it’s uncomfortable to you when I do attempt it, just let me know and I’ll stop.”  A pause, “It’s nothing like any of the scenarios you’re thinking of John.  It’s actually rather tame for once.”

John didn’t let out his sigh of relief, though.  Not yet.  He might need it for later.  Then started his favorite time with eating with Sherlock in public.  The deductions.  Soon the two were a pair of giggling idiots, trying to keep their voices down as Sherlock told John about everyone else in the restaurant.  They only stopped when the waitress brought them over their starter, sliding on the table between them.  John grabbed one of the rolled up injeras with what he supposed was the timtimo in it, and began eating.  It was different, but it was delicious.  The injera had a strange taste and texture to it, but it complimented the food perfectly and he let out a little hum as he chewed on the food, noticing that Sherlock smiled at the noise as he, too, picked his own food up.

When they were done with the starters, finally the waitress brought over the main dish and John had to stop and stare at it in awe for a moment.  He had seen others eating it in the restaurant, had seen their order, but it still did not prepare him for seeing the whole thing.  It looked delicious, for one thing, and how on earth were you supposed to eat with just your hand, because this looked a lot messier than the starter had been, already rolled up for them.  John was just glad he had clipped his nails last night, because this was sure to be a messy meal.  Which meant that it would be messy for Sherlock as well.  A smirk curled his lips.

“If you’re quite done staring at it, I believe it’s time to start eating again.”  Sherlock said, reaching out to rip off a piece of the injera and scooped up some of the food, popping it into his mouth.  Belatedly, John noticed he was no longer staring at the food, but at Sherlock himself and quickly tore his eyes away and put them back on the food, starting to eat his own, remembering to keep his left hand down, out of sight so he wouldn’t be tempted to use it.

Only a few bites in and he was already starting to get his right hand a mess.  He glanced up at Sherlock and quirked at the man as he noticed that only his fingertips were turning the color of their food, coated in sauce.  The rest of his hand was immaculate.  As always.  He frowned and picked up another little piece of meat, the chicken dish and popped it into his mouth.

“How do you do it?”  He mumbled after he swallowed down his food.

Sherlock looked over at him, “Do what?”

“Eat.  Without making a mess of yourself.  Everyone else here is covered in food, and you’re sitting there like a Prince, only your fingertips damaged.”

Sherlock smiled, reaching in and dipping his piece of injera into another dish, “I believe the saying is ‘a magician never reveals his secrets?”

John sighed and rolled his eyes, “Fine, don’t tell me, but don’t yell at me when I accidently get food on your coat later.”

“What, you’re not going to bother cleaning your hand on a napkin?  Seems foolish.”

“Oh course I’m going to-“ He frowned and reached for his napkin, wiping off his hand, sending Sherlock a glare the entire time.  The detective just smiled cheekily back at him, chewing on his food.  They continued eating for a while when John finally decided to ask the question he had wanted to know the answer to since they had arrived at the restaurant.

“So why did you pick this place again?”

“Oh, right.  Kulaso.”

“…bless you?”

“No, John.  It’s the name for what I want to try.  We’re already eating off the same plate, so I might as well try this.”  John watched as he ripped off a piece of injera and scooped up some of the food, but instead of eating it, he held it out for John.  He looked down at the food held out for him, then up at Sherlock as though a third eye had suddenly decided to start emerge on the man’s forehead.

“What are you doing, Sherlock?”

“A Kulaso, remember?  You can decline it.”

“Is it considered rude if I do?”

“No, but-“ he watched as Sherlock’s arm faltered, an unreadable motion flashing through the man’s eyes.  He let out a little sigh instead of the rest of his sentence and reached forward, grabbed Sherlock’s wrist with his clean hand and brought the food forward.  He never took his eyes off Sherlock’s as he took the food into his mouth.  He swore he saw a slight blush heat up the detective’s usual pale cheeks as his lips brushed against Sherlock’s long fingers.

After he finally swallowed it, he asked, “So what was that, then?”

“A Kulaso.  The Ethiopian version is called a gursha.  It’s seen as a sign of friendship.”

John blinked, “Oh, okay.  What did you mean by ‘we’re eating off the same plate, so I might as well try this?’”

“Sharing the food on a plate is also a sign of friendship.”  He was definitely blushing now, and John decided to make it his personal mission later to figure out just why the detective was getting so red faced over this.  But, for now, he was just concerned about all this sudden need to reinforce their friendship, through food no less.

“Are you afraid that we’re not friends anymore or something?  Because I still consider you my best friend.  I just needed to get over the fact that you’re not dead after three years of thinking so.  Not to mention that I was furious at first for being kept in the dark.”

He watched as Sherlock actually blinked in surprise at him, “No.  It’s nothing like that.  It’s more for a different reason, you needn’t concern yourself with it.  It’s done with now and I’m pleased with the results.”

“So, this was an experiment,” John wasn’t impressed, to say the least.

“Oh, no,” Sherlock sat up straighter, “No.  Nothing like that, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

Something was definitely going weird.  Sherlock Holmes was getting flustered.  He licked his lips and reached for more food.  They fell back into a comfortable silence eating away at the food.  As they were nearing the end – Sherlock sure could eat when he wanted to, John decided – John wavered.

“Is the person supposed to return the Kulaso-whatever?”

“If you want to,” He was studying the table now as though it was the most interesting piece of furniture he had ever laid eyes on.  John quirked an eyebrow and mimicked Sherlock’s earlier move, holding it out for Sherlock.  The man looked up and leaned forward, taking the food into his mouth.  John felt Sherlock’s lips brush against his fingers and this time it was his turn to blush, almost dropping the handful, but he bit down on his bottom lip until Sherlock had the food under control in his own mouth.  John moved his hand away and cleaned it off on his napkin.  As he moved the fabric over the digits, he remembered quite clearly that Sherlock hadn’t cleaned his hand off after he had done his.  He glanced up at the detective, but his attention was already elsewhere, absently chewing away.

They managed to finish the rest of the food without anymore odd things thrown into the mix and Sherlock went back to deducing things about the new costumers as they came in.  On more than one occasion, John had to hold his hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing so hard that his food flew out.  Finally they had eaten everything on the plate and after cleaning off their hands and faces – Sherlock still infuriatingly clean, John noticed – the waitress came by to ask what they wanted for desserts.  Sherlock ordered a corbeille de fruits, quickly ordering a torta macao for John.  After asking for them to go, he turned to look at John.  Who gave him a small smile and a shake of his head.

“So, you knew what I wanted for dessert, too?”

Sherlock shrugged, “You enjoy chocolate and I’ve been mulling it over during all of dinner.”

John laughed, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Yes, you say it quite often.  It’s hard for me to forget,” he gave a small smile.  He took the bill when it arrived with the desserts and slipped in his credit card, handing it back.  After getting it back and signing the receipt, the two finally got up, leaving the restaurant behind.

“That was quite interesting.  And delishious,” John groaned, stretching his back as Sherlock flagged down a cab, “We should go there again sometime.”

Sherlock scooted to the far side, placing the desserts on the seat between them, “Yes, I quite enjoyed it.  I wouldn’t mind returning to this place someday for lunch or another dinner.  Maybe when we’re in the neighborhood again?”

John smiled, “I would like that.”

“Then it’s a- um- it’s settled, then,” Sherlock looked out the window with a sharp gaze and John was left there in silence wondering if, for a second there, Sherlock had been about to say ‘date.’  He shook his head, dismissing that thought.  It was just too impossible.

\--

The thought didn’t stay away, however, and popped up again a week later, when John was writing up their latest case for his blog.  His mind started to wander to their previous one and he decided to look up the restaurant and browse through their pages.  He was browsing the Guide page when he saw it, under the picture, “sharing food on a common plate signifies the bond of friendship.”  So that part had been true.  He wondered if Sherlock had read this entire page and memorized it.  No doubt he had already deleted it all, however.  His eye drifted to the side of the page, caught by the word ‘Kulaso’ and nearly stopped breathing when he saw it wasn’t so much for friendship, but a sign of affection.

Quickly, he looked up Ethiopian cuisine, clicking the first link, a Wikipedia article. Finally he found what he was searching for near the bottom.  “A gursha is an act of friendship or love.”  He nearly groaned as he read over the words, giving a quick glance up at Sherlock, whose gaze had landed on him now.  His sharp eyes unblinking as he studied John.  He hadn’t figured out just what John was looking at yet and it was now or never.

“Come here.”  John said, tapping the table opposite him.  Sherlock got up obediently and sat down in the chair, looking across the table at John, fingers tapping at the wood.

“Well?”

As an answer, John turned his laptop around, showing off the restaurant’s site.  Sherlock glanced down at it, then back up at John, “Yes?”

“’A sign of affection.’  Sherlock-“ John stopped and let out a sigh, “Is there something that you need to talk to me about?”

Sherlock glanced at the table, tapping his fingers against it, then back up at John, “I’m afraid I have… developed deeper feelings for you than that of friendship.”

John leaned back in his seat, “Were you ever going to tell me?

“I knew there was a chance of you finding out through this, so I figured this was my way of telling you.”

“You couldn’t think of any other way, any way at all, that could have been a better route than this one?  Like, I don’t know, telling me?”

“It was either this way or not at all.  If you didn’t figure it out from the restaurant, I was just going to let it drop.  It’s not important, anyway.”  Sherlock snapped, looking to get ready to leave.

John held out his hand, “All right, okay.  You’re socially awkward, I get it.  But this is something you could have just told me.  Though I’m a little confused as to why you’ve developed these feelings for me.  I thought you were married to you work?”

Sherlock stood up harshly, his chair clattering as he stalked away, “And this is precisely why I didn’t want to tell you.  Since the feeling is not mutual, you will just ridicule me for having these feelings in the first place.  I do not appreciate-“

“Sherlock, wait.  I didn’t mean it like that, sorry.”  Sherlock still wouldn’t turn, but he had at least stopped running.  He reached out, tugging on Sherlock’s wrist and slowly the man turned around, whose mask was back in place.  “Look.  I’m just confused, that’s all.  You said you were married to your work.  I thought you were asexual, personally.”

“Just because I said that when we first met, mind you, does not mean that my mind can’t change over the course of five years.  Now if you’ll please let go of my arm.  I wish to be somewhere on my own to-“

“What if it wasn’t one sided?”

Sherlock blinked, his eyes widening, “But it is.”

“It’s obviously not if I’m even bothering to ask you, Sherlock,” John smiled softly, giving Sherlock wrist a small squeeze.  “So, how about we go to that restaurant again sometimes soon and try out that Kulaso again.  Maybe next time I will get the meal with tea.”

“We’ll have to wait until after a case, when I’ll actually be hungry,” Sherlock was shifting his fingers, brushing them over John’s inner wrist, twisting out of John’s grip and finding his finger.  They entwined them, fingers slotting together and Sherlock moved closer, his mask crumbling.

“Of course.  That’s the best time to eat because then I’m not eating a meal alone.”

Their chest bumped against the other’s.  John had to tip his head back to look at Sherlock, who had to look down.  But they were both smiling and that, in the end, excused the awkward head positions.

“So, it’s a date?”  John grinned.

“It’s a date.”


End file.
